


The Doorbell Rang

by alchemic_rose



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Child Abandonment, Dave Swearing, Other, Sadstuck, Separations, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 14:39:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2273520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemic_rose/pseuds/alchemic_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The doorbell rings and you see you Bro flinch out of the corner of your eye. You assume it must be some shitty customer of his or someone Bro knows but isn’t too keen on seeing. The doorbell rings again as your Bro is frozen on the futon. Hell, you almost make a move up to answer the petulant rings yourself before you hear him give a sigh and stand. He glances in your direction with enough subtlety for you not to catch his expression before he slowly trudges to the apartment door. You are briefly perplexed by his behavior but quickly brush it off and turn back to the shitty comedy that is playing on TV. A knock now sounds from the door and you turn your head to look. Your Bro is standing by the door, hand hovering over the doorknob. You frown beneath your shades, perplexed by his hesitation. </p><p>Bro never hesitates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Doorbell Rang

**Author's Note:**

> Just to give a trigger warning, the CPS is involved. I have never had any experience with CPS agents or how exactly that whole system works, so this work is purely speculative and meant to pull at the heart strings.

The doorbell rings and you see you Bro flinch out of the corner of your eye. You assume it must be some shitty customer of his or someone Bro knows but isn’t too keen on seeing. The doorbell rings again as your Bro is frozen on the futon. Hell, you almost make a move up to answer the petulant rings yourself before you hear him give a sigh and stand. He glances in your direction with enough subtlety for you not to catch his expression before he slowly trudges to the apartment door. You are briefly perplexed by his behavior but quickly brush it off and turn back to the shitty comedy that is playing on TV. A knock now sounds from the door and you turn your head to look. Your Bro is standing by the door, hand hovering over the doorknob. You frown beneath your shades, perplexed by his hesitation. 

Bro never hesitates.

He clears his throat and opens the door standing in the opening as he talks with someone on the other side. After a few moments Bro steps aside and some lady walks in carrying a briefcase. She glances about the apartment, eyes falling on you and lingering. You return her gaze with a signature Strider poker face from your position from the other side of the futon. Bro doesn’t look you way and walks into the kitchen; the lady follows him a moment later. You try and distract yourself with the shitty puns a nurse is making on the TV but the muttered tones from the kitchen unnerve you. That uncomfortable feeling drags on for what seems like forever, the show you were watching half-heartedly ends, and another begins to play before you hear any change in the buzzing stillness. The lady comes out of the kitchen and introduces herself, then asks you to stand up and come over to her. 

Bro hasn’t come out of the kitchen. 

She asks you again to come over to her. You respond by standing up slowly, and ask what’s going on; the growing knot in your stomach begins to twist painfully. She avoids your question and offers further bullshit encouragement. Your eyes look past her at the kitchen door. 

Bro still hasn’t come out of the kitchen and your blood begins to run cold. 

You tell her you’re not moving from this damn spot until she tells you what is going on. You try and refrain from swearing as much as you feel like it because your Bro taught you that politeness can get you places where swearing couldn’t sometimes. Obviously this doesn’t work for her as she takes a few steps to the door, opens it and calls to someone out there. She steps back and a man walks in and tells you in a stern and commanding voice that you have to "Come with them now". You stare at them as the ice in your veins turns to fire as your dreaded suspicion is confirmed.  
They’re going to take you away from Bro. They’re the fucking CPS.  
Your eyes dart to the kitchen. You have to get to Bro... you have to get to Bro and get the hell out of here. You bolt towards the kitchen but that tall bastard seemed to sense your motives and intercepts you. You yell, you yell like a punk ass kid for him to let you go, that you’re not going anywhere with them. You struggle with him as you yell, trying to twist from his grip but he has your fucking arms locked behind your back. The stupid broad is trying to tell you why they are taking you and that everything is going to be ok. 

“It’s not going to be fucking ok!!!”, you scream at her. 

You’re being dragged to the door; these fucking people are dragging you out of the door of your own fucking apartment. You’re crying now, screaming and crying for your Bro as you fight against the arms restraining you. The kitchen door hasn’t moved and your eyes are locked desperately onto it, hoping your Bro will bust through it and kick these people’s asses. But it stays shut, mocking your pleas. Bro is abandoning you… he’s letting them take you away without a fight?? Why hasn’t he come through the door?? You scream for him, thrashing your legs so your feet hook around the doorframe. You strain to keep your eyes on the kitchen door as you sob. 

“Bro!! Why are they taking me?!? Why are you letting them take me, Bro?!? Why didn’t you tell me????? Bro, Bro, BRO!!!! WHY?!?!?” 

The kitchen door cracks open and there is your Bro standing in the narrow opening; only half of his profile is visible. You subdue your sobs to sniveling gasps and grunts as you continue to struggle against your detainer who is trying to pull you out the door. You look at his face and see tears streaking down below his shades, his mouth twisted to hide a sob. Staring at him, glasses askew, snot and tears running down your face, a single word storms through your head. A single syllable that shouts in your head over and over and over again, turning into your new mantra... 'why?'.You catch him mouth something before they pull you from the doorframe, screaming.

‘I’m sorry.’

The front door slams shut and the view of your crying Bro is replaced by the numbers of your apartment.  
You name is Dave strider, 13 years old and you’ve been taken from your Bro.


End file.
